Myth and Mortal
by GennaWeasley
Summary: A team of Half-Bloods goes to London to help NSY solve the murder of Carolina Willis, daughter of Iris. They met Sherlock and John, and that was the start of a strange-but-brilliant family-that-isn't.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N - So Finnie, Queen of Crossovers, has returned to post yet another PJO-related crossover! *giggles* This story is in what I've dubbed the "IU" - a crossover AU that involves Percy Jackson, NCIS, Dalton and now Sherlock (Plus my novel!). It's my distraction project. My I'm-in-class-right-now-need-something-to-do-with-my-hands project. I have what adds up to a couple chapters written so far, so I'm gonna type it up and try to find good spots to break up the chapters [in the notebook it's written in it just has line breaks for jumps in time]. I know I've got a whole bunch of works-in-progress posted in part up here, and I'm sorry that I haven't updated them more/more regularly. *shrug* It's just how my brain works._

One: A Collision of Worlds

"Just a point of interest, whose idea was it for us to shadow-travel here?" Clarisse asked, catching Nico as he stumbled.

"That would be mine," the 15-year-old responded. He tried to regain his balance. The others – Terra, Percy and Annabeth – slid off of Mrs O'Leary's back. "I mean, Perc and I couldn't exactly fly here, could we? Plus crossing the Atlantic by air or sea takes too long."

"Wouldn't want to keep a crime scene waiting, would we?" Tera said. "You alright, di Angelo?"

"'course I am," Nico replied. Percy chuckled, putting his hand on Nico's still unsteady shoulder.

"We should check into the hotel, guys," Annabeth said reasonably. "It should be just around the corner here."

They followed Annabeth into the hotel, and for once they accomplished something uneventfully.

Within the hour, they were approaching a house that was clearly a crime scene. Terra adopted her 'yes, I am qualified to be here' attitude and pulled out her badge and ID.

"You're the Americans?" the irritable officer waiting for them said. "Sergeant Sally Donovan." She held her hand out to Terra.

The 18-year-old shook her hand. "I'm Agent Terra Forman. Gr- Lestrade is expecting us, as you know. Where is he?"

"Second floor, first door on the left."

They walked to where they'd been directed to, and as expected found Detective Inspector Lestrade waiting for them. What they weren't expecting where the man with curly dark hair and his shorter, light-haired friend looking closely at the body. Terra and Annabeth both embraced Lestrade.

"Hello, girls," he greeted them. He nodded politely to their teammates.

The curly haired man turned around. He stared at the group that had just entered the room. Ignoring this, Terra ordered, "Nico, body."

Her youngest team member nodded and joined the other man next to the body. "I'm Nico."

"Dr John Watson," responded the man.

"Beth, evidence," continued Terra. "Riss, photos. Perc –" She glanced around. None of his usual jobs were currently available. "…help Annabeth."

Her team did as they were told, leaving Terra in the doorway with Lestrade. The other man was still staring at her, which she found mildly disconcerting.

"Greg, who is this man?"

"Sorry 'bout him, Terra. He's not exactly great with people."

"That still begs the question – _who is he_?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

Terra was startled when the man spoke. Until he introduced himself, she'd been half expecting him to be mute.

"I'm –" she began.

"American, left-handed, and far too young to be at a crime scene," interrupted Sherlock.

"…Greg, what in _Hades_ did he just do?"

"It's all fairly obvious," replied Sherlock, looking bored. "Your accent is from the Midwestern United States. You're wearing a watch on your right wrist, and most people are more comfortable with their watch on their non-dominant arm. The time on the watch is also five hours behind, that's the east coast – probably New York, if the tall boy's keychain is anything to go off of. And your age is obvious."

"Yes, I grew up in the Midwest – Wisconsin. And yes, we came from New York. But I'm not left-handed and I'm not too young to be here," Terra responded.

"You're not left-handed?" repeated Sherlock.

Terra waved both hands in front of his face. "Ambidextrous."

"You're ambidextrous?" Sherlock said. "There's always something…"

"Sherlock, focus!" called John from the floor.

"Right," said Sherlock, turning back to the body.

* * *

><p>"So he can basically tell a person's whole life just by looking at them?" Annabeth summarized.<p>

"Basically," replied Lestrade.

"How?" asked Percy.

Lestrade shrugged. "If we knew, we wouldn't need him as much as we do."

Sherlock had, just a few minutes before, gone running away from the crime scene with no explanation. John had followed a few steps behind.

Terra smirked. "I'll have to test that."

"Be careful about that, Terra. We don't want him figuring out anything he shouldn't know," warned Lestrade.

"What harm could it do, really?" asked Clarisse. "Considering how much he notices, if he can't see through the Mist, I'll eat Prissy's hat."

"Why my hat?" Percy asked.

The others ignored him. Terra said, "Greg, do you really think we'll need his help to solve this?"

"Probably."

"Then he has to know what he's dealing with."

"He's a mortal!" exclaimed Nico.

"A mortal who will probably help us solve the case," responded Terra. "I know it's against the usual rules, but he needs to know."

Lestrade sighed. "You're right. I wish you weren't, but you are."

"Where do they live?"

"221b Baker Street."

* * *

><p>"Where are we going, Sherlock?" John asked. "Do you have a lead?"<p>

Sherlock shook his head. "Baker street. I need to think."

"Don't you usually do that at the crime scene?"

"Yes, but –" replied Sherlock, but he didn't finish the thought out loud. Something about those kids at the crime scene was off-putting to him. So many _contradictions._ They hadn't been in England long enough for the girl – Terra, Lestrade had called her – to change the time on her watch, but none of them had the appearance or attitude of people who'd just gotten off of a long flight. They all had a look in their eyes like they'd seen battle, but the eldest couldn't be older than 20. Not to mention the fact that they would've had to have been on the plane several hours before the police had been called.

"But what, Sherlock?"

"Nothing. We're going home."

When they reached their flat, they found two of the teem of teenagers waiting for them. Terra was sprawled on the couch and writing on her left arm with a black pen. Nico was staring blankly out the window. Both teens turned to look at them when they entered.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" asked John.

Terra and Nico glanced at each other. "We need to talk to you."

Terra sat up properly and clicked her pen. Nico joined her, gesturing toward the chairs opposite the couch. Sherlock and John sat down, too."

"You're helping on this case, right?" began Terra. John nodded. Terra continued, "Well there's something you should know about the victim…"

Terra launched into an explanation about some nonsense to do with the Ancient Greeks. Sherlock was listening, but barely. Most of his brain was focused on studying Terra and Nico. His eyes darted from Terra's watch to Nico's ring, then to the cramped handwriting that was now visible on both of Terra's arms, then to Nico's beat up aviator jacket, then to Terra's hair which was falling out of its neat bun, then to Nico's black CHB shirt, then to their hands resting next to each other on the couch in the few inches of open space between them.

"Sherlock, what do you think?" John inquired.

"It sounds like nonsense to me," replied the detective.

"But it isn't, Mr Holmes!" Nico said.

"I can see the look on your face, Mr Holmes. You're confused by us. We're not straightforward, like you're used to," Terra said. "Nico's jacket is authentic, but isn't beat up enough to be a hand-me-down through the proper number of generations, and it certainly hasn't had enough owners if it's in that condition. Annabeth and I are clearly close to Lestrade, but he's presumably never mentioned either of us and you can't 'deduce' the relationship between us. And then there's the getting here problem. Either we knew long before the police did that Carolina had been killed or we had a faster mode of transport than a plane. Explanations? Exactly what we've told you."

Sherlock shook his head. "Those old gods are myths. It's impossible."

"Not impossible, improbable," corrected Nico.

"It feels strange to say this to you, Mr Homes, but once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains – _however_ improbable – must be the truth," added Terra. "And this _is_ the truth, sir."

Sherlock stared at them. They were right, but… Her words were an echo of something he himself had said before, but he had never expected to hear them directed at him.

"I believe you," John told them. "Sherlock will, too, eventually."

"We ought to leave, then," Nico said, more to Terra than to John and Sherlock.

"See you later," Terra said. Nico shook both of the men's hands and the two of them stepped into the hallway. Nico took Terra's hand and they vanished into the shadows.

"His hand was freezing," observed John. "And not just how you usually have cold hands. It shouldn't be possible for his hands to be that cold. Not while he's _alive, _that is."

"He did claim to be the son of the god of the dead," Sherlock reminded him.

"That doesn't make him a corpse."

"Really? It sort of feels like it does sometimes," Nico said casually, walking back into the room. "Sorry, Terra left her jacket." He scooped up the black coat from the floor by the couch, waved, and stepped into the shadows again.

Of all the strange encounters Sherlock Holmes had experienced… this certainly had been one of the strangest.

"Did he do that deduction thing, like Greg told us about?" asked Percy curiously as the CHB team walked down the street, following a lead.

"Not out loud," responded Terra, "but I could tell he was trying to figure us out. His eyes were moving back and forth really fast. He looked confused."

"How did he react?" Annabeth inquired.

"Didn't believe us at first," Nico answered.

"People rarely do," said Clarisse.

"John did, though," Terra remembered. "I bet Sherlock will come around, if he hasn't already."

"How do you figure?" Clarisse asked.

Terra smirked. "For all Greg said about Sherlock not listening to 'idiots', I get the idea that despite his apparent normalness, Sherlock will listen to John."

"You think?" Nico said.

"You're still not very good at reading people who aren't dead yet," Terra commented. "The way they look at each other – I've seen that before." She glanced at the two boys on either side of her. "Actually I see it quite a lot. They rely on each other. I bet that by now John has convinced Sherlock to believe us and – "

"Sherlock says you're wrong," John said as he caught up to them, out of breath.

"What?" the two daughters of Athena said simultaneously.

"This suspect's innocent," he continued. "Sherlock says he wasn't even in London at the time of the murder." Terra raised her eyebrows. "He wants you to come with me. Said he needs to talk to you."

"So he's willing to work with us?"

"Yes."

_A/N - To clarify a few things about this AU/the IU: Greg Lestrade is a son of Athena. CHB is a team of Half-Blood investigators who get involved when cases get too... Half-Blood-ey and risk exposing the continued existence of the gods to the mortals. And Terra is the main character in my novel (although the IU is obviously AU for AiNW, too. She's a regular old mortal in the novel)._

_Love you dearly, my nonexistent readers for this fic. Less than three!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N - In between Doctor Who episodes, I typed up chapter two! And if anyone's interested, I'm also planning to post Like Normal Kids chapter 13 sometime soon (I'm midway through writing it)!_

Two: Eliminating distractions and Solving cases

Terra, Nico, Percy, Annabeth, and Clarisse stood in a line in 221b's kitchen. John was leaning against the doorframe and Sherlock was in front of them.

"Right now, you are a distraction," Sherlock announced. "If we are to work together, we need to get this out of the way."

He stepped forward and untied the ribbon Terra wore in a neat bow around her neck. He removed the ribbon, revealing a long thin scar that she had tried to forget about. But she hadn't forgotten about it, as she still took the time to cover it up every morning. Her team knew the scar was there, but they didn't know its story – they'd been separated during the war.

"You were taken hostage," Sherlock observed. Terra nodded. Her team stared – Terra didn't talk about the war. _Ever._ "You blame yourself. Made a stupid mistake and now try to hide the result." Terra nodded again, looking Sherlock right in the eye. She rolled up her long sleeves, daring him to guess more. Sherlock studied the writing – on one arm were notes on the case, on the other notes for her books. "You fight using the knife concealed on your right side. You hate carrying a notebook around, so you write case notes on your right arm and ideas for your novel on your left. Are you _sure_ you don't favour your left hand?"

"Positive."

He turned to Annabeth, but glanced at Terra's eyes again before speaking. "Grey eyes run in your family."

"Most of our siblings have grey eyes, yes."

"You have a history with that one" – he gestured to Percy – "but you aren't together now. You also fight with a knife, but you're right-handed, unless you're ambidextrous like your sister."

"I'm not."

"Not what?"

"Ambidextrous."

"Good. Moving on. You're close to your father – makes sense, he's probably who you grew up with. You don't live at home anymore, though. Not even at that camp of yours."

"No, I share an apartment with Clarisse."

"I know," Sherlock said. Clarisse and Annabeth's jaws dropped. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's as obvious as the fact that she lives with the boys even though she can afford to live on her own," he added, pointing at Terra.

She shrugged. "They're teenage boys. Frankly, I don't trust them to live alone."

"We'd be fine!" Percy said.

"No, we wouldn't," corrected Nico with a sigh. "She's the only one who can cook."

John chuckled. Terra smirked. Clearly John had similar responsibilities to her own (like making sure her teammates eat properly).

Sherlock continued his little speech, "Clarisse. A natural fighter, but as of late you're a supposedly gifted investigator."

"Supposedly?" responded Clarisse.

"Sorry, he does that to everyone. As far as he's concerned, he's the only gifted person in the world," John apologized.

Sherlock waved a hand in John's direction, indicating that the shorter man should shut up.

"You boys live with Terra – "

"We told you that it doesn't count!" interrupted Nico.

"I said it. You merely confirmed it and told me she can cook."

* * *

><p>Once they got past introductions and deductions, Sherlock, John and the CHB team solved the case in less than two days.<p>

"I thought the Freak hated people like us. Trained professionals, you know?" Donovan said.

"No, he hates idiots," replied Percy.

"We're not idiots," added Nico. "At least, not as much as you guys."

"Boys, be nice," Annabeth reprimanded. She smiled at the irked expression on Sgt Donovan's face, though.

"He didn't cause you too much trouble, did he?" Lestrade asked.

Terra shook her head. "I've told you already, Greg, he was fine. Actually, I rather enjoyed working with him. I mean, it was really strange and he talks like he's the only person on the planet with a brain, but it wasn't nearly as bad as you said it would be."

He was stunned. It was fairly obvious to Terra that no one had ever said anything positive about working with Sherlock outside of 'we solved the case' [John Watson excepted, of course]. She smiled. "John tried his best to keep Sherlock from insulting us too much. It worked, on the most part. In return, I tried to keep Riss in check. That was also mostly successful."

"When is Chiron expecting you back?" asked Lestrade.

"We're leaving as soon as we're done here," Terra answered. "I'll be back before too long, though. Maureen scheduled some events in London for next month."

"See you then."

"Good-bye, Greg!"

_A/N - Short chapter, wrapping up the case. This case is just the jumping off point for the story, though, which spans several years and an awful lot of trips to England. Starting from the next chapter, though, Sherlock'll be a little bit ooc. It's intentional, though. I'm just warning you ahead of time so that you don't review and be like "Wait what in Hades is going on?" _

_Love you, dears!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N - Hey, loves! Me again. I don't honestly think anybody's reading this, but that's okay. I write it for myself, and type it so I don't have to hand over my notebook all the time. Sherlock starts getting a little different from here on, but that's kind of just part of the story. So if you _are_ reading this... just go with it._

__Three: Books

The next time Terra found herself getting ready to go to London, it wasn't for a case. She had book signings and other events to attend. This time she was stuck on a plane for some ridiculously long period of time. This time instead of staying in a hotel, she was staying with her [much] older half-brother. This time she was sick, but Maureen still made her go.

Not for the first time, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson walked into 221b Baker Street to find a teenage girl sprawled on their couch. She waved when they entered the room.

"You here for help on a case, Terra?" asked John, looking around for her teammates.

"Nope," she replied, still absentmindedly waving at Sherlock. Then she sat up, took her bracelet off and tossed it to Sherlock. "I'm in town for my other job."

He caught the bracelet and inspected it. It was fairly simple, made of a silver-coloured metal with two military-style ID tags attached. One directed people to contact some American Federal Agent named Tim if she was found injured or dead in the US, the other sent people to Lestrade if she was found in that state in the UK. "Why weren't you wearing this before?" he asked, throwing it back.

"Timmy says I oughtn't to wear it while I'm on cases. Somethin' about how my habit of gettin' hurt and lost is unprofessional," Terra answered.

"Not to be rude," John said, "but why _are_ you here, if it's not for a case?"

"Just thought I'd drop by for a –" she coughed violently "- visit. Wanted to say hello."

John looked concerned. "Are you alright?"

Terra nodded. "Perfectly fine."

"People who are fine don't cough like that."

"Solace said I was okay enough to come here," defended Terra.

"Solace?" John repeated.

"A healer of some sort from that camp of hers," Sherlock said as he walked to the kitchen.

"Yeah. Will Solace, son of Apollo. He's in med school and he's been Camp Half-Blood's best healer since he was like 15," agreed Terra. She coughed again. "He said I'd be okay until I got home as long as I didn't fall in any more freezing lakes."

"When did that happen?" inquired John.

Terra laughed, but it quickly turned into more coughing. "I fell off the dock at camp two weeks ago. Got sick, got better, got sick again. Will says it's somethin' to do with my immune system and the fact that Riss and I were workin' together while she had a cold."

"Boring," they heard Sherlock say in the other room.

Terra's shoe flew through the air and collided with the back of Sherlock's head, sending John and Terra into a fit of giggles as Sherlock tried to figure out how he hadn't seen it coming. "Anyways," Terra continued, as if her friend's flatmate had _not_ just been hit with a shoe, "Will said I'd be alright if I didn't do that again. And I don't intend to. It wasn't fun."

"Good advice," John commented.

"I had the mornin' off, so I –" she checked her watch. "Damn it. I've got to meet Maureen in like half an hour. I didn't expect you to take so long to get here."

"You could come back later for tea," John suggested.

Terra chuckled. "You Brits and your tea! Greg keeps trying to convince me to drink it, but I don't care what he says. Hot chocolate will always be my warm beverage of choice."

John smiled. "I'll see what we can do."

"I'll see you later, then," Terra said, standing up.

Sherlock waved without looking at her, and John said, "'Bye!"

The 18-year-old walked to the door, waved, and exited the room.

"She sounded different," observed John.

"She's ill," replied Sherlock disinterestedly.

"No, her accent didn't sound the same as the first time we met her," John insisted. "I know that she's sick."

"Well, yes. I didn't expect you to have noticed it though," said Sherlock.

John rolled his eyes. "Don't think so little of me, Sherlock."

"There you go, dear," Terra said, handing a fan's book back to her.

"Thanks, Emma!" the girl replied.

Terra grinned. "Who's next?"

A boy who was about her age stepped forward.

"What's your name?" Terra asked politely.

"Avery," he answered.

"Nice name," commented Terra as she wrote him a little note. She looked up when she heard a giggle. A girl with dark red hair and hazel eyes had stepped forward tnext to Avery. The girl had a copy of _Missing_ in one hand and Avery's hand in the other. Terra smirked. "This is your girlfriend, then?"

Avery looked amused. "Nah, this is just Rachel. She's my best friend."

"Cute," Terra said, handing Avery's book back and taking Rachel's. "Rach, what's your favourite animal?"

"Why?" Avery inquired.

"Just wonderin'," replied Terra casually.

"Cat," the two friends answered in unison.

Terra smiled and drew a little doodle of a cat next to her signature before handing Rachel's book back.

"Thank you," they said together.

As they stepped out of the way, Terra had a clear view of the door. Leaning against a bookshelf right next to the door was a tall, dark-haired man in a black coat, and standing next to him was a shorter, light-haired man. "What could they possibly be here for?" muttered Terra as another fan handed her their book.

"What?" asked the fan.

"Nothin'. What's your name?"

After she had scribbled a little note in the fan's book, she waved at a security person to get his attention.

"Yes, Miss?" he said politely. "Is something wrong?"

"Not yet," replied Terra. "Do you see those two men over there?" She pointed to Sherlock and John. The security guard nodded. "Bring them over here."

He did as he was told.

"One moment, dear," Terra said to the fan at the front of the line. She turned to Sherlock and John. "What are you two doin' here?"

"Investigating," replied Sherlock.

"Investigatin' – " she coughed "_what_?"

"A case of Lestrade's which involves someone who frequently visits this bookshop," Sherlock lied.

Terra rolled her eyes. "Right. Now I don't know what you're _actually_ doin' here, but - and I don't mean to be rude – I'd prefer if you leave."

"This could be important!"

"Doubtful. Look, Sherlock, I just don't want you scarin' my readers with your… deductions."

"But –"

"Sherlock, let's just go," John said.

"John, this was –"

"Say good by to Te- Emma, Sherlock," John ordered. Sherlock looked confused, but did so anyway. John said, "See you later."

"Good-bye," Terra said, waving. The two men walked away.

The next fan set her book in front of Terra. "You know Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do," replied Terra. _Unfortunately_, she added mentally.

"That's so cool!" the girl responded. "I read Dr. Watson's blog!"

"You're not from around here, are you?" asked Terra as she wrote.

"Yeah, I'm from the US. Heard your trip here was at the same time as mine, and I convinced my parents to let me come," answered the girl.

"Wow," Terra said. "What's your name, dear?"

"Sydney."

"Okay… There you go."

John woke up in the middle of the night, hearing someone coughing violently in the living room. For a moment, he was confused. Then he remembered – Terra had dozed off while nibbling a cookie and talking to him and Sherlock the previous evening. Realizing he should probably go check on her, John got up and put on his robe and slippers before walking as quietly as possible down to the living room. Terra was sitting cross-legged on the couch in the dark.

"Terra? Are you alright?" John asked quietly. Sherlock was actually asleep for once and John did _not_ want to wake him up.

"John?" replied Terra sleepily. "Is that you? Am I at 221b? I don't remember" she yawned "falling asleep…"

"Yeah, you are," John answered. "I didn't want to wake you. Sherlock didn't much care. SO we left you there."

"Greg will be worried about me."

"We called him hours ago."

She coughed again. "Thank you, John."

"No problem."

The lights snapped on, blinding Terra and John. "What's going on? Why are you two up at this hour?"

"_SHERLOCK!"_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N - Hey, loves! Meant to get this up last night, but my computer has issues. So I'm posting this from school woohoo! _

Four: A change in the dynamic

After that, every time Terra was in London, she visited the flat on Baker Street. Sometimes she'd show up with Nico or Percy or Clarisse (but not Annabeth – she wasn't fond of Sherlock) asking for help with cases. Actually that only happened twice, plus the one time they met at a crime scene. Occasionally she visited while in the country (or on her way to another) for book-related events. She learned quickly to build an extra day into these trips for adventuring with Sherlock and John, because for reasons known only to Sherlock himself, he had made it a personal goal to make her a "decent" investigator. Once, she made a trip to England just to see Sherlock, John and Greg. That was her favourite trip by far.

She was comfortably curled up in Sherlock's chair. John sat across fro her, drinking tea. Sherlock burst into the room. He had a huge grin on his face that could only mean one thing – Lestrade had just texted him about a case.

"Terra, do you have your badge and ID?" John asked as he and Terra jumped up and picked up their jackets.

"Always do, when I'm with you two," replied Terra. "Just in case."

With that, they were on their way.

It was an interesting case – a double murder which was followed by the suicide of the husband of one of the two victims. Some people (_cough_Donovan_cough_) thought that the man who had committed suicide had killed the other two. Sherlock solved the case slightly slower than usual, letting Terra and John try to make some deductions of their own, and displaying an un-Sherlock-like amount of patience when they weren't quite right.

When they solved it (and it really was _them_ – John and Terra actually managed to figure most of it out on their own), Terra was in charge of explaining the solution to her brother and his collegues at Scotland Yard.

"He," she said, setting down a picture of the first victim, "was sleeping with her husband." She put a picture of the second victim down next to the first. "Needless to say (but I will anyway because there's a reason Sherlock calls you idiots), she was… irked. So she shot him."

"How do you know this?" asked Anderson.

"Her finger prints were on the gun, and there was residue on her hands and clothes indicating that she had recently fired a weapon."

"Gun? What gun?" asked Greg.

Terra tapped her foot impatiently. "The gun we found in the bush near the bodies!"

"You found a – SHERLOCK! Are you teaching Terra to withhold evidence now, too?" Greg asked irritably.

Terra chuckled. "Anyway, it turns out that the first victim's wife found out or heard the gunshot. She took the gun after a struggle and shot victim number 2. The 3rd guy came to investigate the gunshots and the 1st one's wife handed him the gun and basically said 'this is all your fault for sleeping with my husband' and left. He, realizing both of the loves of his life were dead, shot himself. The surviving woman came back and hid the gun, having apparently realized it could connect her to the crime. It's all quite simple, really. Now do go arrest her – we don't want a murder running around." She handed Donovan a slip of paper. "That's her address."

Donovan looked at Greg for orders. "Go on!" he said. When she and the others were gone, Greg looked at his [much] younger sister and asked, "Were you acting like Sherlock on purpose?"

"Of course I was," Terra replied.

"How did he know?" Greg inquired.

"Know what? Be specific, Greg!"

"About the two men. The cause of the whole thing."

"Oh. Actually, I caught that before Sherlock," said Terra proudly. Her eyes flicked momentarily to the pair waiting by the door. "I have _excellent_ gaydar."

"Terra, come on," John said. "We apparently have dinner plans."

"Is Sherlock actually admitting to being hungry or did Mycroft –"

Her phone buzzed, indicating that she'd received a text.

"_Hurry Up, Miss Forman. I'm waiting. –MH"_

"Right. Guess that means we're leaving," Terra said. She hugged Greg. "It was nice workin' with you, big bro! I'll send you the next couple chapters to translate soon."

"I'm looking forward to it," replied Greg. "See you later."

Terra followed Sherlock and John to the street where a black car awaited them. Terra had never met the older Holmes, but she had heard about him (mostly from John). The man who they met at the restaurant where the car dropped them off wasn't much different than Terra had been expecting. His supposedly ever-present umbrella was propped up against his chair. He was studying her, much the way Sherlock did when he met someone new. This was to be expected, as Mycroft shared Sherlock's ability to observe a person and figure out almost anything about them. Dinner was rather dull as far as Terra was concerned. My croft was asking a favour of a very bored-looking Sherlock. Sherlock said no (like you couldn't guess that).

Not long after that, they returned to Baker Street.

Terra was exhausted. They'd barely slept in 3 days, and she collapsed on the couch moments after getting home. The last thing she was aware of before completely falling asleep was someone putting a blanket over her and gently kissing her forehead.

"G'night, 'Lock," she mumbled.

"Good night, Terra," Sherlock replied quietly.

And with that, she fell asleep.

_A/N - In my notebook, the transition from this chapter to the next is more dramatic-seeming than if it's broken up like this. *shrug*  
><em>_I hope that Sherlock being different doesn't bother you guys too much. But it has to be this way. Otherwise why would he - but that's after Reichenbach. We're not there yet. I shan't tell you what he does. Just trust me. _

_Less-than-three! [and keep your eyes peeled for chapter five!]_


	5. Chapter 5

_The last thing she was aware of before completely falling asleep was someone putting a blanket over her and gently kissing her forehead._

_"G'night, 'Lock," she mumbled._

_"Good night, Terra," Sherlock replied quietly._

_And with that, she fell asleep._

* * *

><p>Then there was the day she all but deleted the word "fall" from her vocabulary.<p>

She was sitting in Percy's cabin with her team when Greg's face appeared in the fountain.

"Terra?" He sounded distressed. That was very _very_ not good.

"What's wrong?" she asked, dropping to her knees next to the fountain.

"Is it so unusual for me to want to talk to my little sister?"

"Over IM? Yes. Tell me, Greg, what's wrong?"

"Sherlock Holmes is dead."

"What?" shouted Terra, glancing at Nico. "How?"

"He jumped off the roof of St Bart's, Terra. He's dead."

"I'll… I'll call you later, Greg," Terra said, waving her hand through the image of his face.

* * *

><p>"…Is there going to be a funeral?" Terra inquired two hours later. "I'll make a detour on my Spain trip anyway, but if it'd be possible to be there for the funeral…"<p>

"I'll talk to Mrs Hudson, she said she'd be handling it," replied Greg.

"How's John?"

Greg hesitated. "He's a wreck."

"I'm not surprised. I'm going to talk to Maureen about changing my flights. I'll see you day after tomorrow if I can."

"See you then, Terra."

Terra pressed the off button on her phone, and it slipped out of her hand. It landed with a crack on the floor and the back and battery flew across the floor. She held her stuffed owl close and cried.

A while later, she had fallen asleep, still clinging to Errol (the stuffed owl).

"T, is this your cell phone?" Malcolm asked, putting the phone back together.

Terra sat up. "Yeah, can I have it? I need to call Maureen."

"You okay, Ter?" he asked concernedly.

She held out her hand. "You know that British detective I visit every time I go to Europe?"

"Sherlock Holmes, right?" replied Malcolm, handing her the phone.

"He's dead."

"Oh my gods, I'm so sorry."

Terra sighed. "I'm just worried about John, his best friend. They were quite close, and I get the sense he's pretty much forgotten how to live without that mad consulting detective of his."

* * *

><p>"But why?" Maureen asked.<p>

"Like I said, family emergency," replied Terra.

"Em, you don't _have_ a family," said Maureen.

"I do! Look, Maureen, there's been a death in the closest thing I have to a family. I just want to be with the others for a few days before I go to Spain. Sightsee on your own, just make sure I've got a ticket that'll take me to Spain from _London_ in a few days' time," explained Terra.

"I had no idea," Maureen said quietly. "I'll get your flights changed. You're leaving tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, Maureen. Thanks, I'll see you next week," replied Terra.

"'Bye, dear. My condolences. Your family is in my prayers," responded Maureen.

Terra ended the call. Before dropping her phone back on her bed, she sent a text.

"_Heard the news. Visiting as soon as possible. May need to sleep on your couch. –TF"_

* * *

><p>Actually visiting Sherlock's grave was… surreal.<p>

It was the last day before Terra would be leaving for the event in Spain. One of her friends was the son of Hades. She _knew _ how completely ridiculous talking to the piece of black stone marking where he was buried was. But no matter how irrational it was, she flet there were a few things that needed to be said.

"Sherlock, do you realize what you've done?" she asked softly. "Of course not. You were usually so preoccupied with your work and your own problems, you wouldn't have thought much about who you were leaving behind. He's a mess, Sherlock. And you know who I'm talking about, so don't give me that – except you're _not_ giving me that look. I can picture it, though. Actually, give me whatever look you want, just… Gods, Sherlock, why did you _do_ that? Whatever was wrong, we could've helped you. You didn't have to… jump.

"Frankly, I don't think that it's really hit any of us that you're not coming back. In the last few days when I've been sitting around in 221b, I've caught myself staring at the door half-expecting you to show up shouting at a case at least three times. John's worse, but I don't know if he actually realizes it.

"I almost punched Mycroft at the funeral – _your_ funeral – but Greg stopped me. He said I shouldn't take out my anger on your brother. I don't think he knows what Mycroft did. I do though. John told me.

"Molly's alright, I think. Or maybe she's just pretending for our sake. Anderson and Donovan didn't go to the funeral, not that we'd have wanted them there. I think they're feeling guilty. Which they should, from what Greg and John have told me."

She paused, staring at the shiny black rock in front of her. All it said was his name. No dates or years of birth and death. No "silly" (but perhaps comforting?) quotes. Just _Sherlock Holmes_.

"The world has lost a great man," she said, "and tried to replace him with a piece of rock. I'm _talking_ to a piece of rock."

She allowed herself to laugh briefly at the ridiculousness of it.

"What would you have thought of that? …What were you thinking when you did this to us?" She was starting to feel angrier. "I don't know if I'm most upset with Moriarty for convincing people you're a fraud, Mycroft for telling him about you, you for jumping, or myself for being so angry.

"Probably you. Because for someone so brilliant, you were awfully dumb sometimes. I bet you never even thought about the effect your death would have." She paused again, a familiar prickling feeling in her eyes. "But I miss you anyway, idiot. So does John." She kicked the headstone. "I can't believe you abandoned him!" She kicked it again. "He was your best friend!"

* * *

><p>"Terra, dearest, the question is not <em>if<em> you broke three toes in London. That much is obvious. The question is _HOW?_" Maureen inquired.

"I may have kicked a marble headstone… as hard as I could… in Converse… more than once," replied Terra.

"Why?"

"I was upset."

* * *

><p>Not long after that, Terra was standing at a podium in front of a room full of Spanish teenagers and people in their 20s who read her books.<p>

The event was a Q&A at a big convention (which was part of an international campaign to get young people to read more). Most of the questions were about her books or her writing process, but right near the end was –

"What did you do to your foot?" (in Spanish, obviously)

Terra smirked, adjusting the position of her crutches and turning so she could see the person who asked. "I broke three toes while in London last week. It was decided that I probably shouldn't be standing around for two hours with all my weight on that foot."

"How'd you break three toes?" asked someone else.

"I was rather angry with a … friend of mine, and kicked a big rock."

_A/N - So there's your immediately-post Reichenbach chapter. I love you and I'm sorry._

_Review if convenient. If inconvenient, review anyway._

_[Too soon for a Sherlock-quote-related joke?]_


	6. Chapter 6

__Six: Recovery

It had been 2 ½ years since Sherlock died.

In the time between breaking three toes in the cemetery and that day, Terra had accomplished quite a bit.

She'd published two more books (for a total of four in her series).

She'd started college (while still balancing CHB and author-ing).

She'd (_finally_) taught Nico how to use the oven.

She'd taught Percy how to properly operate the toaster ("No, Perc, if you put it on that setting you'll burn the waffles!").

She'd started studying a 3rd language (yay French!).

She'd even convinced John to help her team on a case ("Look, John, I know you miss this stuff. I really think you can help. Please?")

But nothing she'd done – not in the last 2 ½ years or in her entire life – had prepared her for this.

There had been a knock on the door. That wasn't too unusual, it was probably just one of the neighbors. She set down the copy of Missing that she'd been rereading and making notes on, stood up, and walked to the door.

What she saw when she opened the door was a tall man in a dark coat.

She froze.

Same curly dark hair. Same pale skin. Same blue-grey eyes. Same blue scarf… It shouldn't be possible, but there in front of her was Sherlock Holmes.

Then again, if anyone could jump off of a building and then appear at her door, it was Sherlock Holmes.

She studied him for a moment. "Are you even capable of feeding yourself if John isn't around?"

"I've been 'dead' for 2 ½ years, and the first thing you say when I show up is a comment about my eating habits? How very… atypical of you. Interesting," Sherlock commented.

"I'm not sure there's a 'typical' in this situation to compare to, 'Lock," Terra replied, rolling her eyes. "Really, I'm just distracting myself from the desire to break more bones."

"Yes, I heard about the broken toes," said Sherlock.

Terra grabbed his hand and dragged him into the kitchen. "Want a sandwich?"

"No."

"Well, too bad. If John were here, he'd make you eat. You need food."

She glanced up from the sandwiches she was making when Sherlock didn't respond. "'Lock? You okay?" Sherlock still didn't answer. "Look, if you really don't want the sandwich, I'll – "

"How am I going to tell John?"

"You mean he doesn't know?"

"Can't yet. He's still not safe."

Not for the first time, Terra's shoe collided with Sherlock's head. "What's the _threat_, 'Lock? James Moriarty is dead, isn't he?"

"He may be, but he left a network of assassins behind."

"That begs the question, then, what are you doing sitting in my kitchen instead of out there killing bad guys?"

"I've been informed that several of his remaining minions currently reside in New York."

"And you need an NY-based home base to go back to every day?"

"Precisely."

"Well then you can put your stuff in Nico's room. The boys are out of town with Percy's parents, but when they get back Nico will be more willing to sleep in Percy's room than Perc would be to sleep in Nico's. I think the skull on the bookshelf freaks Percy out a little."

"I'm not leaving you at home alone today! It's one thing when you're mid-chase, but you're _bored_ and I don't think the neighbors will appreciate it if you start shooting up the walls," insisted Terra.

"You can't force me to do anything," Sherlock replied. "I'm dead, remember?"

"Only when I have to," said Terra, throwing a shirt at him. "Now put some proper clothes on, you're going."

"I'm in hiding. The world thinks I'm dead. I cannot accompany you to this book signing."

"We'll just have to come up with a good pseudonym for you then. And maybe we should switch scarves, too. With my hair all curled for being Emma, we look enough alike that we could probably pass you as my uncle or something like that."

Sherlock sighed. "How are we to choose my name, then?"

"I'll pick the first name, you pick the surname. Maybe pick something that's significant to you for the last name. But, ah, not Watson – that'd be a bit too obvious."

"Adler," suggested Sherlock after a moment.

"That's The Woman's surname, right?" asked Terra. Sherlock nodded. "Then you're Luke Adler."

"Why Luke?"

"After Luke Castellan. Hero of the Titan War. He saved the world," explained Terra.

"I shouldn't use his name, then. I'm no hero, and I don't deserve to be named after one," replied Sherlock.

"Don't say that," snapped Terra. "You're Luke Adler now, end of discussion."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Maurie! Meet my uncle Luke," Terra greeted. "If it's not too much trouble, he'll be spending the day with us."<p>

"No trouble at all, dear," replied Maureen. "I'm Maureen." She held a hand out to Sherlock.

He shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Em, what happened to not having a family?" she asked Terra.

Terra smirked. "Closest thing to a family I've got. Don't question it, Maureen."

* * *

><p>"Your publicity person doesn't like me," observed Sherlock.<p>

"Maureen liked you just fine until you started talking about the state of her marriage in front of everyone," said Terra. "You're better about that when John's around."

They heard the door open.

"Terra! You here? We're home!" called Percy.

"Kitchen!" shouted Terra.

The boys dropped their stuff by the door and walked into the kitchen.

"Hey boys," Terra greeted. "We've got a guest staying in Nico's room until I leave for England, so you're sharing a room for the next week and a half or so." She jumped down from the counter where she'd been sitting to stand next to Sherlock.

"Mr Holmes?" said Nico.

"Aren't you dead?" Percy added.

"Obviously not," replied Sherlock.

"We're trying to keep his not-dead-ness under wraps," Terra informed the boys, "so he's Luke Adler when we're in public."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" replied Percy.

Terra giggled. Nico rolled his eyes. "Don't encourage him, Ter. He's been doing that all week."

_A/N - I prefer the chapter that follows this one to this one itself, to be completely honest. But John and Sherlock's reunion will have to wait. [Actually the JW&SH reunion might be two chapters off, depending on how wordy the chapter gets. Either way I do like the next chapter.]_

_I love you dearies!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N - This actually isn't that fantastic of a chapter. Simon's more inquisitive than I would've liked him to be, but I had lots that I wanted to get into the chapter and him asking a million questions ended up being how that happened. Oh, by the way, meet Simon. He's a classmate of Terra's._

Seven: Terra shouldn't date because...

"You read John Watson's blog?" Terra asked her friend Simon, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah," replied Simon.

"But… why?"

"It's very –" he began. "Wait, you're not one of _them_ are you?"

"One of who, exactly?"

"The idiots who believe that Sherlock Holmes was a fraud."

Terra flinched almost imperceptibly when he said Sherlock's name (or maybe it was when he said _fraud_). "Of course not, Sherlock Holmes was a genius. It's just that since Sherlock … fell, John's blog has been rather dull."

"I've found his accounts of recent cases quite interesting! And I'm quite curious about this new flatmate of his. Why hasn't he mentioned her name?"

Terra was about to answer, but her phone buzzed. She unlocked it to find a text from her older brother.

"_Molly thinks Anderson screwed up. Come check his work when convenient. –GL"_

She chuckled. "My brother needs my help with something, I'll have to leave as soon as this is finished."

Simon read over his notes. "Well, I think the rest of the project can wait 'till tomorrow."

"Well then I ought to head over there now," Terra said.

"Hey Terra, d'you want to go out for dinner with me later?" Simon blurted.

"Sure," replied Terra, giggling. "You can pick me up at six."

Simon grinned. "Where?"

"Here, let me write it down," Terra said. She picked up her pen and scrawled her address on his hand. "See ya later, Simon!"

"Wait a minute, you live at 221b Baker Street?" he called.

She smirked and waved as she walked out the door. "Afternoon!"

* * *

><p>She had been staying at Baker Street for a few weeks so far while she was studying in London.<p>

Sherlock was living in a flat rented under the name 'Luke Adler'. It was close enough to Baker Street that he and Terra could monitor each other, but far enough away that he was unlikely to run into his former flatmate on the street.

Terra pretended not to notice that John had long ago switched bedrooms. In reality, she had noticed it the day that she'd moved in and been directed to the upstairs room with her things. And she noticed it every evening when John walked into the room that she had such clear memories of Sherlock not sleeping in even though he was told to.

She was in her room when Simon arrived.

"Terra, there's a boy here looking for you!" John shouted.

"I'll be there in a minute," Terra yelled back. She paused momentarily before adding, "Don't you dare Sherlock him, John! I don't want you scaring him off!"

She heard John laugh and Simon inquire about what she'd meant.

_Where is that stupid scarf? _she wondered, crawling under the bed. _If I left it at Sherlock's – Oh. There it is._

It had been a present from Sherlock for her 19th birthday, and was without a doubt her favourite scarf. It was soft and green and it had somehow wrapped itself around the back leg of the dresser.

When she walked into the sitting room, John was explaining what she'd meant by telling him not to 'Sherlock' Simon.

"…and if she's telling me not to do that, she must really –" John said.

"John Watson, _shut up_," interrupted Terra. "Come on, Simon, let's go."

"Okay, how did you end up living with John Watson?" Simon asked while they were at dinner.

"John offered me the empty room when I told him that I'd be studying here," Terra replied. "But I suppose your meaning was more along the lines of how did I meet him?"

"Well, yeah," said Simon.

"I met John and his former flatmate about four years ago. I was 18 at the time," Terra answered.

"You knew Sherlock Holmes, too?"

Terra rolled her eyes. "Brilliant. Good to know that your studies in Forensics are going to good use. How _did_ you work that out, Simon?" He stared at her for a moment. "Wow, sorry, Sherlock moment. Yes, I knew him."

"That's really cool," Simon commented.

"Sometimes," responded Terra. "Sometimes I think he'd forget that other people were in possession of brains and were therefore capable of understand what was going on."

"His website was part of what got me interested in solving crimes. That's why I'm studying what I'm studying," Simon said.

"Good for you. I was already working in this field, but I figured it'd be best to get a better understanding of the science behind it all," Terra shared. "I met the world's only consulting detective and his blogger on a case."

"At 18? Did you know the victim or something?"

"Well, yes, but that's irrelevant. I was working on the case."

They continued talking about cases and Sherlock for a while, then they talked about Simon's family, then each of their favourite books. Then Terra's phone buzzed. She glanced down at the screen.

_1 new text from Luke Adler_

She sighed and hit the button to read the text.

"_Bored –SH"_

"I'm not even answering that," Terra said.

"Who's it from?" inquired Simon.

"My uncle Luke. He's –"

"_Where did you hide my gun? –SH"_

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

"Uh… nothing."

"_Not telling. Not all landlords are as forgiving as Mrs Hudson –TF"_

"What'd he say?"

"He seems to enjoy torturing building owners."

"_Then come home. Find me a case. Find something else to amuse me. I'm so BORED. –SH"_

"_Sherlock Holmes, I'm on a kind-of date. Entertain YOURSELF, I probably won't even visit your flat tonight –TF"_

"I told him I'm on a sort-of date. That'll either shut him up or make it worse."

"Why would that make it worse?" asked Simon nervously.

"He might well just show up," Terra replied.

"_How long have you had a boyfriend? Why have you not mentioned him? –SH"_

Terra rolled her eyes. "Really, he's like an over-protective father sometimes."

"_He's not officially my boyfriend yet. And you know that, you'd have deduced otherwise –TF"_

"_Who? –SH"_

"_Simon –TF"_

"Is he?" inquired Simon.

"_That boy from your classes? –SH"_

"_That's the one –TF"_

"_No –SH"_

"Very much so," Terra answered. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Two reasons. One, I'm curious about your family. You don't talk about them much besides your mysterious older brother who occasionally needs your help midday. Two, I need to know who I'm supposed to impress."

"_No what? –TF"_

"I don't have much of a family to talk about, to be honest."

"_Him? He's so ordinary –SH"_

"_Glad you approve –TF"_

"_Sarcasm doesn't work over text –SH"_

"But your brother and uncle are family, aren't they?" insisted Simon.

"Greg – my brother – is much older than me. Works for Scotland Yard. Occasionally calls John and I in for help on cases," Terra told him.

"_I don't care. Your opinion of him is irrelevant –TF"_

"Really?"

"Why would I lie?"

"That's really cool, Ter." He paused. "And your uncle?"

"Not actually related to me," she admitted. "But it's easier to introduce him as my uncle than as a father-figure, which I guess would be a more accurate term for him. It's more straightforward. And people believe it, 'cause with my hair done right he and I look a lot a like."

"_No it is not –SH"_

"_How do you figure? –TF"_

"And that's it? Just a big brother and a not-uncle-who-is-actually-more-like-a-father?"

"_Because you care enough about my opinion to listen to me –SH"_

"I've got John and Mrs H, too," Terra said. _Not to mention a mess of other half-siblings,_ she added mentally.

"No parents?"

"Just John and –"

"_John seemed to like him –TF"_

"And this Luke guy, right? Do they know each other?"

Terra wasn't really sure how to respond. She went with: "Ah… no."

"_I suspect he was lying to you. Letting you make your own decisions. I see no reason to do so, myself –SH"_

"_Of course you don't –TF"_

* * *

><p>"I don't like him."<p>

"You've never even met him, Sherlock!"

"Still don't like him."

"Why?"

"He's so… ordinary."

"Hate to break it to you, 'Lock, but so am I!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you, though?" he asked skeptically.

"Not everyone's as bright as you, Holmes," replied Terra.

"True," said Sherlock. "But that doesn't make you ordinary." He took the knife that she always had concealed at her side.

If it had been almost anyone else, she wouldn't have let them disarm her. "Big compliment coming from you, that is," commented Terra. She held her hand out. "Give me my knife back. I'm going home soon. What if something happens and I don't have a weapon."

Sherlock smirked and handed the knife back to her. "Plenty of _ordinary_ people walk the streets of London unarmed."

Terra rolled her eyes. "I get it, 'Lock. You're right, okay? Fine, I'm not ordinary. But godly blood aside –"

"- you're still not ordinary."

Terra smiled. "You think so?"

"I know so."

"Well… uh… thanks, then, 'Lock." She hugged him awkwardly. "I'll visit after class tomorrow."

"Good-bye, Terra."

_A/N- Awkward hugs are a good way to end chapters, methinks. And also awkward half-compliments like "You're not ordinary". So I hope you liked this chapter. Review, maybe? Please and thank you! less-than-three!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N - Ridiculously short Christmas chapter woohoo!_

Eight: Christmas

"Aren't you going home for Christmas?" John asked Terra one day in mid-December.

Terra, who was curled up in her favourite chair (it used to be Sherlock's), looked up from her book. "I am."

"When do you leave, then? It's coming up awfully fast."

She stared at him, a look of confusion on her face. "Oooh," she said, "I get it- you think I'm going back to the US for the holiday."

"You did say you were going home, though," John replied. Now _he_ was confused.

"I am home."

"But what about your family?"

"You and Mrs H _are_ my family, John. Back in the states, I have Timmy and the other Camp Half-Blood year-rounders. Tim has his own family to spend the holidays with, and Camp doesn't really do Christmas." She looked down at her book. "There is nowhere I'd rather be for Christmas than 221b."

John grinned.

* * *

><p>On Christmas, after dinner, Terra snuck out of 221b and walked through the snow to Sherlock's flat.<p>

"Merry Christmas, 'Lock!" she greeted him.

"Happy Christmas," he replied.

"How's the bad guy hunt going?" Terra asked, handing him his present.

"I've recently eliminated the last major threat," answered Sherlock. He opened the box. It contained a small pocket magnifying glass, to replace the one that had been cracked in half while he'd been 'dead'. He nodded, handing her the present he'd gotten for her.

In the box he handed her was a necklace. Attached to it was a pair of tags like the ones on her bracelet. Unlike her bracelet, though, they directed people to John or Sherlock at 221b if they found her.

"Really? Then you can come home soon!" exclaimed Terra. "We've got to make a plan!" She put the necklace around her neck. "Thanks, by the way."

"Why must we make a plan? Can't I just –"

She threw the empty box at his head. "Just burst into 221b and give John a heart attack? I think not, Sherlock!"

_A/N - Next chapter is John & Sherlock's reunion! It starts out kind of stressfully, though. So you get Christmas fun first. :)_

_Less-than-three, loves!_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N - I'm following a ridiculously short chapter with one that is roughly six-and-a-half times longer. This is the end of what I have handwritten, so chapter 10 will probably take a few days longer than any have so far. This isn't actually the end of the story, though. Not quite yet. I have other thing that will happen - starting with dinner the day after this. A quick note, though, there be John/Sherlock ahead. Also some kind-of implied Greg/Mycroft. And probably some Percy/Nico, but that's for later. Usually I don't give ship warnings, but this has a kind of abrupt shift into shippy land._

_Also John and Sherlock's reunion is dramatic, but not in the way that most people would expect. I'm going to stop talking now, just read._

Nine: Catalyst

John was reading by the fire. Terra had gone out to dinner with her friends. Mrs Hudson was downstairs. 221b was quiet, for once. Then John received a text.

"_Terra hurt, bringing her home. Needs help. Whatever happens, DON'T PASS OUT –SH"_

SH. Only one person John had ever known signed their texts SH. This must be some cruel joke. Someone was posing as Sherlock and claiming Terra was hurt … but the text had come from Terra's phone.

Before he'd had much more time to process what might be going on, he heard someone kicking the front door.

He jumped up, ran downstairs, and flung the door open.

Standing in front of him was a very familiar man. Sherlock's appearance hadn't really changed since the Fall. Perhaps he was a bit less healthy-looking, but he was here. _Alive_. And alive was enough. John probably would have stood there staring for a while longer, if it wasn't for the small person in Sherlock's arms.

He was carrying Terra, who was pale, bloody, and semi-conscious.

"What happened?" John asked.

"I… I don't know," admitted Sherlock. "Do you still have that previously-unnecessarily overstocked first aid kit? She needs help."

"Bring her upstairs."

* * *

><p>Terra awoke on the couch of 221b later that evening. At first, she was disoriented. Hadn't she been on her way to Sherlock's?<p>

Then she remembered. She had been attacked by some House of Life idiot who'd mistaken her for an Egyptian godling. They caught her by surprise – she wasn't really prepared for a fight.

She did a quick check of all her apparent injuries.

_Head wound. Superficial, but bandaged anyway._

_Bruises and minor cuts on arms and legs. Smiley face bandaids on the deeper cuts._

_Bruised ribs. Ow._

She'd been worse before, but that was not an experience she particularly wanted to relive.

She shifted slightly and – _okay, ow. Bad idea, Terra._

John, who had apparently dozed off in his chair, woke up. "Terra?"

"John," she answered softly. "You got my text?"

"Your text?" John repeated.

"I sent you a text – 'help'. You didn't get it? How did I get here?"

"Sherlock found you."

Terra's eyes moved from John to the figure in the adjacent chair. She groaned. "Weeks of careful planning and he still just showed up at the front door." She looked back at John. "You're taking this better than I anticipated, though."

"Having something else to focus on helped. Might punch him when he wakes up, though," said John.

"I almost did so myself when he showed up," Terra replied.

"How long have you… known?" he asked.

"About five months," Terra admitted sadly. "I wanted him to tell you, but –"

"Something about my safety?" he guessed.

"How did you know?"

"Closest thing to an explanation I've gotten was him mumbling something about me not being safe until now."

"Did he tell you how he did it?"

"What?"

"The… fall."

"No – how?"

"Haven't the foggiest idea. I was actually hoping he'd told you, 'cause he won't tell me."

John laughed. "Five months, and he never told you?"

"Nuh-uh. He'll tell you, though. He'd tell you anything you asked if it meant you'd forgive him for leaving."

"As long as he stays this time, he needn't work so hard for forgiveness."

They didn't talk for a while.

"Why did he do it, Terra? Really, why? Why did he stay away for so long?"

Terra sighed. "He really doesn't talk about it much. But what I _was_ able to get out of him was that the day he jumped, Moriarty had snipers aiming at you, Greg, and Mrs H. He said he couldn't risk letting Moriarty kill you. Spent the last three years getting rid of Moriarty's web so he could come home."

"Really?"

"Really. He's missed you terribly. Of course, being Sherlock Holmes, he'd never admit that. But he did. He asked about you ever single time I walked into his flat since we moved. Sometimes Greg or Mrs H, too, but always you."

"Oh."

They fell silent again.

Even in the dim light of Baker Street's streetlights, Terra could see that John was looking at the dozing detective. John had missed Sherlock quite a bit, but he'd had the advantage of believing his friend was dead. Sherlock had spent the last three years trying to ensure John's safety. John hadn't even known to worry for Sherlock's. John had had the support of other friends to help him get through Sherlock's "death". Sherlock had been alone. As far as Terra was concerned, John had gotten the better deal. It's far easier to move on after a death than after having to separate yourself from someone you loved. That isn't to say John had had an easy three years without his best friend. As a matter of fact, after Sherlock left, John's life never quite returned to normal. How could it, when "normal" included finding limbs and organs in the fridge and waking up to violin music at 3am? But John had just become one of the luckiest people in the world, because the loved one he'd lost had come home.

Terra sighed. _Lucky duck._

She decided that, since she was awake, she would go upstairs to her own bed. The couch really wasn't that comfortable, and her clothes were still rather bloody (although it was dry now). She sat up slowly, ignoring the dull pain in basically her whole body from all of her injuries.

"I'm going upstairs to bed," she informed John.

"Careful on the squeaky step – don't wake Sherlock," John replied.

There was a brief pause, and then they both started to laugh. When Sherlock slept – which wasn't very often – he was _notoriously_ difficult to wake up.

When Terra stopped laughing [_ow_], she walked up the stairs (taking extra care to squeak the loose floorboards loudly).

She abandoned her bloodstained clothes by the doorway and put on an oversized NCIS T-shirt and some pajama pants before collapsing on her bed. She fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Terra woke up and wandered downstairs. She found Sherlock in the kitchen. John wasn't in the flat.<p>

"He's gone to work," Sherlock told her. "Left before I woke up. There's a note on the table."

Sherlock sipped his coffee while Terra examined the note. "What did you two talk about last night, 'Lock? What did you tell him?"

"We didn't talk about anything but you last night," replied Sherlock. "You were more important than talking about my non-suicide."

"So he didn't freak out or anything?"

"About my survival? No."

"I'll remember that."

"Why?"

"In case I ever have to inform someone that their formerly dead best friend is actually not dead again. Not that it's actually _likely _to come up again, but getting myself into danger seemed to be a pretty effective distraction."

"It was unintentional."

"'Course it was. Why would I want to get attacked, even if it _was_ to help you and John? I was caught off guard."

"Don't let it happen again."

"I'll try. But wait, Sherlock, were you _worried_ about me?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

"You actually care, don't you?"

"I try to avoid it. Caring is not an advantage."

Terra rolled her eyes. "First of all, whatever Mycroft has told you, it is. Secondly, OH MY GODS YOU TOTALLY DO!" She grinned. "I feel like I'm in some special, secret, super-elite club. You don't care about very many people."

Sherlock stared at her. "You act remarkably like a 10-year-old sometimes, considering you're 22."

"I could say the same for you, and you're older."

* * *

><p>Terra spent the day curled up with Errol and watching Doctor Who (which John had convinced her to watch a few weeks ago and thank the <em>gods<em> for DVDs 'cause she was still catching up). Her ribs still hurt if she wasn't careful (obviously – such injuries don't heal overnight), and the bandage on her head was annoying, but overall she was quite comfortable.

At one point in the early evening, she was alone – or apparently alone – in the flat.

"You know, Errol, all this reunion stuff would be a lot more straightforward if they'd just kiss and make up instead of all this uncertain avoidance stuff. It's what Everett and I would do," Terra told her stuffed animal. She smirked as the creaking of the front stairs and the squeaking of the kitchen door both stopped. "Of course, you and I both know that won't happen because they're so gods damned _oblivious_. They're so in love it might be amusing if it wasn't so annoying! They both have these _days_ when it seems like all they can talk about is each other, and they give each other these _looks_, and for the love of Aphrodite, I just want them to figure it out! Sometimes it's alright – cute, even – but there are days when it gets so annoying that I just want to lock them in a closet!" She sighed and looked back at the TV.

A few moments later, Sherlock walked into the kitchen and John walked into the sitting room. _Mission accomplished, _thought Terra. _Or rather, it will be in like half an hour._

"Hey boys?" said Terra. "Campfire." Sherlock groaned (he _hates_ 'campfires'), but walked into the sitting room and sat down in his chair anyway. John sat down on the couch, because Terra was in his chair. "Okay, you two need to talk. Sherlock has been dead for three years. You've missed each other. It's catching up time. Or forgiveness time, if that's what it's gonna be. But either way, I'm going upstairs, and you two aren't leaving this room until you're okay again, okay?"

"Okay," they mumbled.

She stood up and walked out of the room.

She didn't actually go upstairs though. The others would _kill_ her if she didn't listen in.

"So… uh…" John's voice said.

"I'm sorry," muttered Sherlock's.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry. I'm apologizing, John."

"I got that." There was a pause. "Why?"

"For jumping. For leaving. For not contacting you. For everything, basically."

"You're home now, Sherlock. That's enough."

Terra had to put a hand over her mouth to hold back an "awwwh".

"Er… did you hear Terra talking to Errol earlier? She's practically turning into another you, with the speeches she gives on cases. Talks to inanimate objects now, too. But at least Errol is cuddlier than that skull of yours."

"I heard her, yes. Speaking of the skull, I see you kept it. …Why?"

"I couldn't get rid of it. Or any of your stuff, really. It's all in boxes in your old room. My room, now."

"You moved rooms?"

"Yeah."

"So what Terra said, is it –"

"Yeah."

"You're –"

"- in love with you. Yeah."

"That's… good."

And then there wasn't any more talking. After making sure her phone was on silent, Terra crept back into the room. She snapped a picture of the now-snogging couple, then tucked her phone in her pocket. "Sorry to, erm, interrupt…" she said. "But I just thought you should know, Greg and Mycroft are coming for dinner tomorrow. They deserve to know Sherlock's alive as well. And Molly's coming, too, so I won't be a fifth wheel." She giggled. "Also I left Errol in here."

Without giving John and Sherlock a chance to respond, Terra grabbed Errol from the chair and then ran up to her room.

_New Text Message_

_To: Molly Hooper_

_[image: Sherlock&John]_

_Under 48 hours. I win. Pay up at dinner tomorrow. -TF_

* * *

><p><em>AN - So yeah, that's - yeah. There you go, loves. _

_A few things you should know:_

_1- Everett. At this point I'm not 100% sure whether the whole backstory for him will get into this, and if it does it'll be later so you deserve to know at least some of it now. He was a friend of Terra's who defected to Luke's side in the Titan War. He saved her life anyway when she was taken hostage by his team and paid the price for his actions with his own life._

_2- As I said before, so far I've just been typing up what I already had written out in my notebook. This is a project I work on at school when I'm supposed to be focusing, usually. This chapter marks the end of catching up, though. So you'll have to wait a few more days than usual for the next chapter._

_3- Sydney, you might well be the only person reading this story right now so I'm addressing you directly: Your reviews always make me smile so much because for some reason you like my writing and my OCs which is always such a great confidence builder. So thanks a hundred times over. _

_4- If anyone else **is** reading this, I do love reviews. So leave one, maybe? I mean, if you've stuck around this long you clearly have some interest in the story... So tell me what you think! _

_Less-than-three, dearies!_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N - That took a while longer than I anticipated to write, but hey, it's here!_

Ten: I'm Not Dead, Let's Have Dinner

That night, they went out to Angelo's for a celebratory Sherlock's-not-dead dinner out.

They sat there and caught up for a while. For the first time in three years, John forced Sherlock to eat a proper meal. Sherlock refused. Well, he _tried_ to refuse. Eventually, with Terra's help, John convinced him to eat.

"So, John, are you finally giving up on this 'not a couple' nonsense?" Terra inquired casually.

"I… uh… I guess, yeah," replied John. Sherlock smiled. Not his half-crazed, we've-got-a-serial-killer smile, or even his do-what-I'm-asking-you-to-because-I'm-charming-when-I-want-to-be smile – it was more genuine, more human. It was a smile reserved for his loved ones.

"Well, congrats, boys. It only took Sherlock being dead for three years for your relationship to change." Terra said, smirking.

* * *

><p>They were in a cab on the way back to the flat on Baker Street. "Hey, 'Lock, you going home tonight, or are you going back to your flat?"<p>

"What?"

"I phrased that poorly, didn't I? Sorry. I mean are you going back to your current place of residence tonight or are you just going home with us?"

"I'll go back to my flat later," Sherlock answered. "For right now, though, I'm going home."

When, Terra fell asleep a bit after 10pm (she had long ago declared that spending extended periods of time with Sherlock made her more tired to make up for his not sleeping), Sherlock and John were sitting in John's room and talking.

Midnight came, and they were still there.

At about 3am, they dozed off.

* * *

><p>When John's alarm went off at 7:30, he did <em>not<em> want to get up. He was warm and comfortable and despite having only slept for about four hours, he had gotten the best night's sleep he'd had in a while. At first, he couldn't even force himself to open his eyes. He was vaguely aware that his pillow was breathing. This might've concerned him (he hadn't had a girlfriend in years), but Sherlock had just come home and John sort of remembered talking to him late last night.

As if Sherlock had read John's mind, he said, "Do you really have to get up?"

John sighed. "Yeah. I've got to go to work. And Terra probably won't even wake up 'till noon unless someone gets up and starts making noise." He reluctantly disentangled himself from Sherlock's arms, and then got up and started getting ready for the day.

He was rather surprised, when he walked into the kitchen, to find Terra sitting at the table and eating toaster waffles. He hadn't even known the toaster _worked._

"Morning, John!" she greeted him.

"Good morning, Terra," he replied. "You're up early."

"Am not," said Terra. "I've got class today. I missed yesterday's, and I don't want to be late."

"Fair enough," John responded.

"So… is Sherlock moving back in?" Terra asked.

"Where would he sleep?"

"He seemed pretty happy where he slept last night."

"How would you know that?"

"I stuck my head into your room earlier to ask you something, but you both looked so much happier than I've seen you in so long that I couldn't wake you."

"Oh… thanks."

"So, what do you say, John? Can he stay? Can we keep him? Please?" She giggled. "Okay, he's not a stray puppy. But seriously, is he moving back in?"

"I'm not opposed to that," Sherlock said from the doorway. Terra giggled again.

* * *

><p>"Where were you yesterday, Terra?" Simon asked when she sat down next to hi. "What happened to you?"<p>

Terra touched the three smiley face bandaids that had replaced the rather overdramatic giant one that had previously covered the cut on her forehead. "It's nothing, Simon, don't worry. I fell down the stairs. John let me sleep in."

"You fell down the stairs," repeated Simon. "Impressive display of coordination there, T."

"You'd be surprised," replied Terra.

"On an unrelated note, are you free tonight?" asked Simon.

"Sadly no," Terra answered. "Family dinner."

"Quiet dinner with John and Mrs Hudson, then?"

"I wish. Greg and his significant other are coming over, plus Molly Hooper, a friend of John's. There'll probably be some punches thrown."

"Between _who_?"

"Greg and my uncle Luke."

"Do they not get along or something?"

"Gods, I wish it were that simple."

* * *

><p>The doorbell rang. There was a brief moment in which no one moved to answer it – Sherlock and Terra were mid-argument, and John and Mrs Hudson were watching with a combination of amusement and surprise. It wasn't until it rang a second time that John stood up and walked down the stairs.<p>

He opened the door just in time for Greg and Mycroft to hear Terra shout, "YOU'RE NOT GETTING OUT OF THIS. AND FOR THE LOVE OF ATHENA, _FOLLOW THE PLAN THIS TIME!_"

"You'll understand when you get upstairs," John told them.

"NO! SHUT UP! JUST – UGH, STOP BEING YOU FOR FIVE MINUTES AND DO WHAT I SAY!"

A moment later, Terra stormed down the stairs. "John, _you_ deal with him. I'll greet the guests. If I stay up there without a break, I'm gonna kill him, and Mrs Hudson can't stop me."

John hugged her. "No homicide in front of your brother." He sighed. "I'll go deal with him. Don't come up, that should give you some time to cool off."

He walked back upstairs and Terra threw her arms around Greg. "Hey, Greg! I haven't seen you in _days!"_

"Hi Terra," Greg responded.

"Hello Mycroft," she greeted.

"Terra."

"You guys can go upstairs. I'd try to prep you, but I don't want to wreck the surprise," Terra said. "I do wish I could see your reactions, though. Greg, I _really_ hope you hit him. He deserves it today/"

"Who?" Greg asked.

"You'll see," replied Terra cryptically.

They followed John up the stairs.

Shortly after they entered the sitting room, Terra heard the familiar sounds of a fist hitting a face and a Sherlock hitting a table, followed by Greg shouting something about Sherlock being suspiciously _not_ dead.

Molly showed up about five minutes later.

"It only took like five minutes once they started talking properly," Terra said instead of greeting her.

"I saw the picture," replied Molly.

"They're happier already, too. It's good to see them reunited," continued Terra. "Even if Sherlock _does_ make me want to throw bricks at old people sometimes."

Molly looked shocked, but didn't comment. She followed Terra upstairs to where the others were.

"Oh, I see you untied him," Terra observed with distaste.

"Terra had tied his arms and legs to various pieces of furniture to slow him down if he tried to escape," explained John.

* * *

><p>The evening passed relatively quietly, when you disregard the fact that Sherlock had just come back from the dead.<p>

Just before Molly left, Terra pulled her aside. "Pay up, Hooper."

Molly sighed. "How much was it again?"

"Fifty," responded Terra smugly.

"What was that about?" John asked after saying good-bye to Molly.

"Oh, nothing," replied Terra.

"She and Molly had a bet on how long it would take us to become a couple," Sherlock told John.

"Terra!" scolded John, taking the money out of her hand. "What have I told you about betting on people's love lives?"

"_Sherlock!_" Terra whined at the same moment. "Why'd you do that? I needed that money to pay Tony for – that's not important right now."

Sherlock merely chuckled in response and walked up the stairs.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N - Greetings and salutations! I'll be honest with you, this chapter does not move the plot forward at **all**. But chronologically the one part at the end that isn't just a general explanation of dreams falls between chapter 10 and chapter 12. So there you go._

Eleven: Blood, Falls, and Violins

Terra never remembered much of her dreams.

That was probably for the better.

There was one thing that always stuck with her, though.

The blood.

Almost every night, she dreamed of that day.

There was blood everywhere. She wasn't sure how much of it was hers and how much was his. It didn't much matter.

She was kneeling in a pool of blood on the pavement next to him, ignoring the sharp pain of her own injuries. She had to help him.

Too late, she realized that the arrows had been poisoned. There was nothing she could do to save him. There was nothing she could do to save him. It was too late. And if she continued to resist assistance from the others, she'd die, too.

She tried to stand, but got dizzy and lost her balance.

The last thing she saw before blacking out was all the blood.

Her eyes snapped open. She was at home, safe in her bed, clinging to Errol.

The longer she was awake, the more the images faded. But the blood never did.

A quick glance out the window told her that it was still the middle of the night.

She hugged Errol tighter and cried quietly.

* * *

><p>"<em>This phone call… it's my note."<em>

John's nightmares were always about the Fall.

He'd replayed the scene so many times in his head that he'd trained himself not to call out for Sherlock when he awoke.

Even now that he knew Sherlock was alive, he couldn't shake the mental picture of his best friend's broken body lying on the pavement and covered in blood.

The rare nights when Sherlock slept were a comfort to John.

If he had a nightmare, he awoke to know that Sherlock was there – warm, breathing, and _alive_ – next to him.

When Sherlock elected _not_ to sleep (a far more common occurrence), John awoke to an empty space where a certain consulting detective belonged. But more often than not, on those nights he woke up from nightmares to hear violin music from the sitting room.

It was as if Sherlock always knew when John need reassurance that he was alive.

* * *

><p>Sherlock had never been much of a sleeper.<p>

While sharing a bed with John was a pretty good incentive to sleep, he still didn't most nights.

He had learned, on his sleepless nights, that both of his flatmates suffered from semifrequent nightmares.

When John had bad dreams, he tossed and turned and mumbled in his sleep. Sherlock had found that his presence seemed to help John, so whenever he could, he tried to make sure he was there when John woke up.

Terra's nightmares were harder to comfort. Her dreams were accompanied by a sad whimpering that reminded Sherlock of a kicked puppy. The problem was that it seemed there was very little he could do for her. The one time he'd stepped into her room to check on her, she'd been curled up on her bed with her knees about two inches from her nose and practically squishing Errol's stuffing out.

Some days, they both had nightmares.

On those nights, he played for them. A long time ago, months before the Fall, he'd written a lullaby to play on John's bad nights.

In the mornings, it had become standard procedure to pretend that everyone had slept soundly.

* * *

><p>One day, well – night (it was about 2:24am), Terra walked into the sitting room while Sherlock was playing. He stopped abruptly and set down the violin when he saw her.<p>

_Eyes red – she's been crying._

_Carrying Errol – just woke up._

_Shivering, keeps glancing at couch blanket – cold._

_Nightmares again, _Sherlock decided. _I thought it was just John tonight. _He threw the blanket at her. "Are you alright?" he asked cautiously. Playing the violin to comfort her while she was asleep was all very good, but dealing with the broken-looking 22-year-old while she was conscious was much more John's area of expertise than his own.

"Bad dream," mumbled Terra. She sat down on the couch after wrapping herself up tightly in the blanket.

Sherlock joined her on the couch. "Do you… er… want to… talk about it?"

Terra shook her head. _Good_, thought Sherlock. He really wouldn't have known what to say.

The next morning when Sherlock awoke, he was still on the couch. Terra was next to him, with her head resting on his shoulder and still wrapped tightly in the blanket. She looked up at him and blinked a few times.

She mumbled, "Thanks, 'Lock." Then she stood up, stretched, and walked away. Before she left the room, she turned around. "Not just for today – for every time you've ever played that lullaby at night. Usually we don't really acknowledge that it happens, but… thanks."

* * *

><p>Oh, and if you're wondering – in Sherlock's dreams, they're all pirates.<p>

_A/N - I was going to write a bit about Sherlock's dreams, but then almost omitted any mention of them whatsoever. In the end I just tacked that little bit on as I was typing it up. _

_If I had done it the other way, you'd know that in his dreams, Sherlock is the captain of their pirate ship. John is first mate. Terra is usually stationed in the crow's nest. Anderson and Donovan are usually on the Royal Navy ship that they sink. *giggles*_

_Review if convenient, if inconvenient review anyway._


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N - Okay I just want to thank all of my readers as a group. You're all wonderful. Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this silly little story with an unusual concept. Less-than-three!_

Twelve: Quiet Days

John and Sherlock were sitting at the kitchen table. Sherlock wasn't eating – he was mid-case. He had his laptop open and was sitting across from John, who actually _was_ eating his breakfast instead of ignoring it.

Terra thundered down the stairs and into the kitchen. She paused when she saw them. "Oh, look at you. You look so… normal. Not too many people get to see you like this. Actually I doubt that most people could even imagine Sherlock _having_ a moment like this," she commented. She crossed the room and picked up an apple. "I s'pose I should feel special for getting to, but it's all a little…" she took a huge bite of the apple "… domestic for me."

"Terra, don't talk with your mouth full," John scolded.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm not five," replied Terra, skipping towards the door. "See you after class, call me if there's a chase!"

And with that, she was gone.

A few moments later, Sherlock slammed his laptop shut in frustration. "Why did the victim have to be an astronomy professor?"

John just laughed.

* * *

><p>The doorbell rang.<p>

"Hello, Dr. Watson!"

"Hello, Simon. Come inside, Terra's still upstairs."

Simon followed John into 221b's sitting room. When he saw Sherlock laying on the couch, Simon did a double take.

"You're supposed to be dead!" Simon exclaimed. Sherlock didn't move.

"He can't hear you," John told him. "He's in his 'mind palace'. He prefers if we leave the room when he does this, but if he's going to be in the sitting room he just has to live with us going on with our lives around him."

"But… I thought he was dead…" repeated Simon.

"He was. Kind of. He faked it. Didn't Terra tell you?" replied John.

"Uh… no."

Terra came down the stairs then, skipping the last three steps and landing (on her feet) with a _thud_ at the bottom.

"Hey, Simon! Sorry I made you wait – turns out Sherlock had stolen my right shoe for some experiment, so I had to rescue it," Terra announced. "John, you promised he wouldn't do that anymore."

"I'll talk to him about it later," John responded.

"Mind palace?" Terra asked, glancing at Sherlock.

"Mind palace," confirmed John.

"Well tell him not to steal my stuff anymore," Terra requested. "Again."

"Are you ready to go, then, Ter?" asked Simon.

"Yeah," replied Terra. She kissed John on the cheek and threw a pillow at Sherlock's head. "'Bye, guys!"

John picked up a book and sat down in his chair, taking advantage of a rare moment of silence in 221b.

A while later, Sherlock said, "It was the step-sister."

"What?" John replied, looking up.

"The victim's step-sister was the killer. Text Lestrade, would you?"

John rolled his eyes and did as Sherlock asked. "Is that it, then? Case solved? You gonna take a break now? Get some sleep?"

Sherlock sat up. "Yes, the case is finished. But I just took _three years_ off, John."

"Not really off," John reminded him bitterly. "And you still didn't sleep or eat properly."

"Sleep is boring."

John just looked back down at his book.

* * *

><p><em>Has Sherlock fallen asleep yet? Is it safe to bring Simon into the building? –TF<em>

John smirked.

_Reasonably. Be quiet, though. Not sure if he's really asleep or if he's just ignoring me –JW_

The front door opened downstairs.

Mrs Hudson's voice floated through the sitting room's open door. "Who's this young man, dear?"

"This is Simon," Terra's voice responded.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Terra giggled awkwardly and John could tell she was blushing. "Yeah, he is. Si, this is Mrs Hudson, our landlady."

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs Hudson," Simon greeted politely.

John heard two people – presumably Terra and Simon – on the steps, and hastily returned to reading so that Terra wouldn't [correctly] accuse him of eavesdropping.

He glanced up just in time to see Simon kiss Terra good-bye in the doorway.

"See you tomorrow, Simon," Terra said, waving as he walked back down the stairs.

"'Bye, Terra!" Simon called.

The next thing John knew, a pillow collided with his face. "What was that for?"

"Spying," replied Terra.

"You were standing _in the doorway!"_

"Date went well, then?" Sherlock said.

Terra (not for the first time) threw her shoe at him. "Shut up, Sherlock!"

"I still don't like that boy," he continued.

Another shoe collided with his head. "You've still never even met him properly!"

"He's still ordinary."

"You're still annoying."

John smiled. He'd take this over silence any day.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N - Sydney don't kill me. _

Thirteen: There is a reason that 'ordinary' is a curse word in the Holmes household

"Where and when?" Terra asked. She paused, listening to Percy's response. "Okay. Send Nico for me – or Mrs. O'Leary, Nico should be working." She listened again. "Cool. See you soon. I'll be there as soon as I can. 'Bye, Perc." She slipped her phone back into her pocket.

"What was that about?" asked Simon.

"Case – I've got to go," Terra answered.

"Can't you tell Lestrade and Sherlock to solve it on their own?" pleaded Simon.

Terra sighed. "Not one of their cases. My – Nico should be here to pick me up soon."

"Who?"

"Co-worker."

"Oh."

As if on cue, Nico stepped out of the shadows. "Hey Terry. C'mon, Riss is like THIS CLOSE to punching another police officer. If we don't hurry up, she's gonna get arrested. Again."

"Why's _he_ allowed to call you Terry? You won't let anyone else," Simon asked.

"Nico's known me longer than most people," answered Terra. She hugged Simon. "See you in a few days."

"'Bye," he responded.

Nico took Terra's hand and they disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

><p>"Three feet, Clarisse," Terra ordered.<p>

Clarisse took a big step away from the policeman she'd been glaring at. "Remind me who we're looking at, Perc."

"Allison Reese," replied Percy. "Hecate cabin. She's only 8."

"Why would anyone kill a baby camper?" Annabeth asked sadly.

"We'll find out," Nico said.

"Annabeth, call her parents," Terra said. "Clarisse, pictures. Nico, body. Percy, text Alex from Cabin 20. Allison's her baby sister, she might be able to tell us something. And plus, she, Myles and Henry deserve to know what's going on."

The team did as they had been asked.

"Hey, Ter, come here," Nico requested.

Terra joined him next to Allison's body. "Yes?"

He held up a small pin that he'd found next to her. "It's a magic weapon, like Percy's sword. And there's blood on it. Little Allison fought back."

* * *

><p>Four days, two chases, and one arrest later, Terra found herself back at Baker Street.<p>

"Turns out that the killer was this mortal kid – barely 16 – with a brother in the Dionysus cabin. He seemed torn between being jealous and thinking we're all freaks. He came across her while she was fighting some monster and finished her off when it didn't," Terra told John and Sherlock.

"That's terrible," commented John.

Terra nodded sadly. "All in all, it was an awful visit to the States. Not helped by the stupid monster attack."

The ribbon she usually wore around her neck was on the side table, shredded and frayed. Her right arm was bandaged. Her shirt was tattered. Her jeans were singed. There were burns on her legs. Needless to say, she was a bit of a mess.

They heard a soft tapping on the door downstairs. Mrs. Hudson answered it.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson," Simon's voice said. "Is Terra home?"

"Yes, she's upstairs, dear," replied Mrs. Hudson.

They heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Terra glanced nervously at the ripped up ribbon on the side table.

"Hi John, hi Sherlock," greeted Simon. "Hey – Terra, what happened?"

"I suppose you were going to learn about this sometime…" muttered Terra.

"We'll let you two talk," said John. He stood up. "Come on, Sherlock."

They exited the room.

"Where to start…?" Terra asked herself.

"What do you mean, Ter?"

Terra sighed. "I live a pretty dangerous life."

"I know that," Simon replied.

"The odds were against me ever reaching age 20."

"Really? Were you sick or something when you were younger?"

"No," replied Terra with a forced laugh. "You've studied the Ancient Greek Gods, right?"

* * *

><p>"It's just… it's all a bit too much, Ter. Running around with Sherlock and John is one thing, but <em>fighting monsters?<em> I don't think I can handle having a girlfriend who's risking her life just by stepping out the door," Simon said. "I'm sorry."

Terra had about 8 possible responses running through her head, but didn't trust herself to say anything.

"I'll see you in class," he continued. "'Bye."

And then he was gone.

When Sherlock and John re-entered the room, Terra was hiding under a blanket on the couch and crying quietly. Sherlock pulled the blanket away. John sat down on the couch and put his arms around her. "Terra, what happened?"

"Clearly, Simon –" began Sherlock, then he stopped abruptly, clearly thinking better of it. He joined them on the couch and awkwardly patted Terra's shoulder.

"Sherlock was right, just like always," mumbled Terra. "Simon's just… too ordinary."

_A/N - Any of the rest of you who like Simon... You ought not to kill me either!_

_I know that this chapter's a bit on the shortish side, and for that I apologize. It seemed longer in my notebook._

_I hope you liked this chapter anyway, despite Simon and the fact that Allison was only 8._

_If convenient, review. If inconvenient, review anyway._

_Less-than-three, dearies._


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N- This chapter is really short. So for that, I apologize. On the upside, maybe you'll hate Simon less? *shrug* Enjoy._

__Fourteen: There's always something

**6:03pm**

Terra was late. Three minutes late, to be precise. For most people, this would not be reason for much alarm.

Why, then, was Sherlock Pacing the sitting room, eyes darting from the clock on the mantle to the phone in his hand to the street outside and back again?

Because neither Terra Foreman nor Sherlock Holmes could remotely be considered "most people".

Terra was ridiculously prompt – if she said she'd be home by six, it was practically a guarantee. If by some unforeseen circumstance she'd be late, she never failed to text home.

"I always know exactly how long it'll take me to get home, so I make my plans accordingly. I've usually got a back-up route, too," she'd once explained. "Athena always has a plan. And a back-up. And usually a tertiary plan, too."

So in the few minutes since 6pm (seven-and-a-half now), Sherlock had quickly begun to worry. [Which was in itself distressing to him – since when does he _care_ about people?]

7 minutes quickly became half an hour, still with no word from Terra.

And then half an hour became 45 minutes.

That was when Sherlock decided to act.

The coffee shop where she'd been meeting her friend was only a few minutes away – he'd work over there and make sure she hadn't just lost track of time.

He wasn't surprised not to see her there, though.

He returned to 221b.

"Was she there?" John asked anxiously.

Sherlock shook his head.

"No clues?"

"None. Although I chose not to put much effort into looking. Terra can handle herself," Sherlock replied. He elected not to share the fact that he'd found a familiar silver ribbon – the replacement for the now shredded green one she'd worn before – caught on a bush along Terra's route home. No need to worry John unnecessarily – he hadn't been lying when he said Terra could take care of herself.

"For the love of Mom, I'm _Greek!_ Wrong set of gods! Wrong abilities! Just _WRONG!_ Release me, you idiots!" Terra yelled. She'd been shouting for hours now, but all she'd accomplished was making her voice hoarse.

Someone, presumably her guard, laughed and said, "This is your most feeble argument for your release yet, godling. Everyone knows the Greek gods aren't real. Tales of modern demigods are just told to entertain the young and untrained."

"Think again, moron," Terra snapped. "I'm a daughter of Athena."

"Prove it."

"How? By _thinking _at you? Children of Athena are clever. We strategize. We fight. I don't have any stupid powers to show off."

"You're lying, then. In the stories, they can –"

"I'm not from one of your dumb stories!"

**3:46am**

Sherlock had found her, he knew it.

He and John were approaching a large house, containing a large group of people who followed a whole different bunch of nonsense than Terra and her team, along with Terra herself.

As they drew closer, they saw that standing guard outside was –

"I have to admit, I didn't see that coming," John commented.

"Simon," muttered Sherlock. "There's always something."


	15. Chapter 15

_a/n - I'm sorry that I haven't updated in so long! It's been a bajillion years since I had time to work on this story! But for whatever reason, people have been taking an interest in this story lately, and that motivated me to update! [wow. run-on sentence.] ANYWAYS, I'm posting three short chapters this evening. Woohoo!_

Fifteen: Prison Break

"Mr Holmes? Dr Watson?" Simon said. "What are you doing here?"

"Picking up Terra," Sherlock replied.

"Well then you've go the wrong place. Terra's a half-blood. We don't associate with them. We're not allowed to," Simon told them.

"She's here," John said as they heard a crash from inside. "There was probably some kind of mix up."

"If that's the case then" – CRASH – "they ought to let her go before she does too much damage," responded Simon.

"Simon!" someone inside called. "Help! Something got in past the defenses!"

Terra had given up on shouting at this point. No one was listening to her.

There was a loud crash in the next room.

"Terra?" Nico's voice called.

"I'm in here, di Angelo!" she shouted back.

Nico's face appeared on either side of the door's barred window. "I'll get you out of here. One minute."

He disappeared again. There was another loud _CRASH_ as the door was pulled off of its hinges, revealing Nico sitting on Mrs O'Leary's back.

"Is this your attempt at being a knight in shining armour?" Terra asked.

Nico laughed. "I don't think I'd call this an attempt." He held a hand out to her. "Need a hand climbing up, milady?"

Terra laughed, too, climbing up next to him. It was just after this that they found themselves surrounded by magicians. They last to enter the room was Simon, followed by John and Sherlock, who Terra supposed had been on their way to stage a rescue attempt of their own.

"Oh, I should've seen this coming," she said, gesturing to Simon. "Too ordinary, indeed!"

Nico laughed again.

"Send my stuff along with John and Sherlock," she requested. "Boys, I'll see you at home!"

And then she, Nico, and Mrs O'Leary vanished into the shadows.

"So you're not ordinary at _all_," Terra commented to Simon. It had been two days, and they were now sitting in 221b's sitting room.

Simon shook his head. "Nope."

"Fair enough, neither am I," Terra replied.

John stuck his head into the room. "Do you two want some tea or something?"

"No, and if we did, we could get it ourselves. Go away," responded Terra. She threw a pillow at him. "And tell Sherlock to stop trying to listen in – I can _hear him_. If you're really that desperate to eavesdrop, go over to Mycroft's. He replaced the camera Sherlock melted last week." She pointed to the video camera 'hidden' in the Skull.

Terra waited until she'd heard John shoo Sherlock away from the door to keep talking. "Here's the deal," she continued as if there had been no interruption, "You are presumably not supposed to date half-bloods. I am not supposed to get involved with magicians. But I like you a lot, and I like to think you're equally interested in me. So if you're not opposed, perhaps we could... ignore the not-so-normal bits of our lives – or pretend to, at least."

Simon smiled. "I like that plan."

"So, my totally normal human boyfriend, are you interested in going out for dinner with me?" asked Terra, giggling.

"Of course," replied Simon. He stood up and held a hand out. "Let's go!"

Terra took his hand and they walked out the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Sixteen: A Bit Not Good

It's almost funny how quickly good days can become not so good.

Or rather, how quickly a not so good day can become good and then go back to being terrible.

Terra had woken up that morning dreading the afternoon. She'd been half hoping that Sherlock would drag her and John along on a case, but no.

Her afternoon with Simon had gone better than she could've hoped.

At dinner, she spent an hour periodically shooting annoyed looks at John and Sherlock (who were supposedly on a date of their own, but Terra suspected them of spying) while talking to Simon.

After dinner, though, things got bad again.

The four of them were on their way back to 221b, they heard someone being attacked.

And, being the people they were, they ran toward the sounds.

_Only my family..._ Terra thought.

By the time they reached the source of the sounds, Terra was holding her knife, John had pulled his gun out, and Simon was holding a weapon that Terra recognized as Egyptian, but couldn't put a name to. It was irrelevant anyway.

They found a terrified woman and a man holding a gun.

Before any of them could do anything, though, two gunshots rang out.

And then Terra's world ended.

_a/n - STOP RIGHT THERE. Before you hit the "next chapter" button, review this chapter. I really want to know your reactions. Even if you usually don't review (which I can understand, even though reviews are lovely), I really want to know what you're thinking RIGHT NOW! So review! Then__ read on._


	17. Chapter 17

__Seventeen: Writing Home

_Alex,_

_What's the good of all of our training if, when it really matters, it can't help?_

_We got caught up in something bad yesterday, because that's just how we are._

_Simon and Sherlock were shot._

_There was nothing I could do. Nothing._

_Years of training, all under the pretence of teaching me how to protect myself and others, and I could do __**nothing**__._

_I'm only human. I can't move faster than a bullet or be in two places at once._

_There was _nothing _I could do to stop it or help them. All I did was scream. I try so hard to protect people, but I couldn't protect two of the most important people in my life._

_I couldn't even shove one of them out of the way and take the goddamn bullet myself._

_I was helpless._

_I was useless._

_I still am._

_Simon's family is here, obviously. I think they blame me. To them, I am Simon's girlfriend who lives a dangerous life and dragged him into it._

_Mycroft is here, too, which I wasn't really expecting. Deep down, he really does care about Sherlock. I'm pretty sure he just thinks I'm in the way._

_John and I have been sitting together the entire time we've been here. He doesn't blame me or thing I'm in the way – on the contrary, he holds me close and comforts me. And I do the same for him. Unlike the others, John actually notices how much this is affecting me._

_We've both grown quite used to our little family dynamic at 221b, and quite attached to Sherlock (despite our best efforts). We don't want to lose him again. He's already died once._

_And I only just got Simon back._

_I can't lose another person._

_I can't have another Everett._

_John's not with me right now, I think he's talking to a doctor about Sherlock._

_I'm worried about him._

_We've already lost Sherlock once._

_I don't know what'll happen if we lose him again._

_John is coming back now, so I'll stop writing._

_Keep us in your thoughts, please._

_Love from, _

_Terra_

* * *

><p><em>an - so... talk of happiness in the IU brought me to this. Wow. On the upside, I have happiness figured out for the end of the story, which is approaching quickly._

_Also a note about this chapter specifically: The "Alex" to whom this chapter is written is, in fact, Alex Hall/Tara Harkness from "Letters" (my Doctor Who fic). She and Terra are penpals in both that universe and this one, although that plays a bigger bit in "Letters" than in M&M. _


	18. Chapter 18

_a/n - This is the 2nd to last chapter for Myth and Mortal! [Look at me, I'm getting stuff done!]_

Eighteen: Crazy is Contageous

John wandered the hospital. He was avoiding Sherlock's room (the man was insufferable when he wasn't allowed to do anything).

As he approached the morgue, he saw Molly arguing with a young woman who couldn't be older than Terra.

" – He was shot _six times_! Do you really need to do an autopsy? I'd say it's fairly obvious what killed him," the girl half-shouted.

"I can't just let you take the body," Molly replied.

"Why not?" asked the girl. "I've got my ID. You can call the other hospital, I'm allowed to do this!" She noticed John. "Or call Mycroft Holmes – I saw him upstairs. Tell 'im it's about Jack. Again."

"It doesn't matter if –"

"Oh come on, I'm running out of time for this. I'll fill out any forms you want me to, but can we get it over with quickly?"

A few minutes later, Molly walked over to John.

"How're Sherlock and Simon?" she asked.

"They're alright," John answered. "Improving. They gave us quite a scare, though."

Molly nodded. The girl from before walked past them with a body bag on a gurney. "Thank you for cooperating, Dr Hooper."

"What was that about?" John inquired.

Molly shrugged. "Some top secret government something-or-other wants to conduct the post mortem themselves."

"That's how she knew Mycroft, then."

"Yeah."

John received a text.

_Where are you? We're finally leaving. Mycroft's driving. Well – you know. –TF_

"That's Terra – we're leaving," John told Molly.

"It was nice seeing you," she replied.

"Yeah," agreed John. "'Bye."

* * *

><p>"That was weird," John commented as he sat down with Sherlock and Terra.<p>

"What?" Sherlock asked, looking bored.

"Some government agency your brother's involved with took a body before Molly examined it. And they sent someone pretty young to pick it up."

"Did she have curly black hair with a blue streak?" Terra asked.

"...yes."

"Oh, I know her! We've been friends for years – she's my pen pal. She has some crazy government job nowadays. Lives in Wales with a friend of hers."

"She's American, though. Why is she –"

"Beats me," replied Terra, shrugging. "Anyway, speaking of crazy, Greg and I are going to New York for this big former camper event at Camp Half Blood soon."

"When and how long?" asked Sherlock.

"Two weeks from now, one week there. Just thought you ought to know," she told them.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Terra and Greg stood in 221b's sitting room with John and Sherlock.<p>

"Please don't let him start any big fires while I'm away," Terra requested. "I'm rather attached to 221."

"And don't let him near any Scotland Yard cases until I get back," added Greg. "Donovan's liable to shoot him again."

"It's not the first time I've been alone with him," John reminded them reasonably.

"We know," the two children of Athena said in unison.

"Sorry, John," said Terra. "We sound like we're leaving our baby sister with a sitter for the first time."

"I'm _right here_," Sherlock said. "Don't compare me to an infant."

"Yes, you are. Well, Baby Becca is cuter than you are, so we'd probably be more worried about her than –"

"Terra, we'd better get going," Greg interrupted, checking his watch.

"Right," agreed Terra. She kissed Sherlock on the cheek and hugged John. "See you in a week."

* * *

><p>They were back four days later.<p>

Terra's hands were bandaged.

Greg (who was highly amused) informed John and Sherlock that she'd gotten into a fistfight with a son of Ares.

"Over what?" asked John.

"Her career choices," answered Greg. "He said that books are useless and that all that you three do at crime scenes is get in the professionals' way, and she launched herself at him."

"Idiot didn't know what hit him," added Terra proudly.

"That's my girl," said John, smiling.

"I don't understand. Why are we encouraging this?" Sherlock asked. "Getting into fistfights is rather poor behaviour for someone of her intelligence."

Terra rolled her eyes. "Because it was awesome and he was an idiot. Plus besides, he's like twice my size and I still managed to come out of the fight better off."

Sherlock still didn't really get it, but he didn't ask again.

"We did get asked to go home early, though. Chiron said I was setting a bad example," Terra told them. She shrugged. "It was worth it."


	19. Chapter 19

_a/n - the idea for this chapter came from a reader (CaseyJuTardis). I loved it so much, I couldn't not include it!_

Nineteen: Fuzzy Socks

Terra unlocked the front door of 221 and walked inside. "Mrs Hudson, I'm home!"

Mrs Hudson stepped into the hall. "Hello, dear. How is Simon?"

"He's alright, which is great," replied Terra. "His family doesn't even hate me anymore."

"Well that's good," commented Mrs Hudson.

"Are John and Sherlock home?"

"No, I think they're on a case."

"Alright. Thanks, Mrs H. I'll see you later."

Terra walked up the stairs and into the sitting room. She kicked off her shoes and ran to the kitchen, sliding to a stop in front of the sink.

She grinned.

Two hours later, she had pushed all of the sitting room furniture up against the walls and rolled up the rug and leaned it against the mantle.

She'd put on her fuzzy socks and was sliding around on the wood floors, like she had when she was little.

She ran across the room and slid into the wall (she'd meant to stop, really, she'd just miscalculated the distance). She fell to the ground and started laughing.

John and Sherlock entered the room and looked around.

"Terra, what have you been up to?" asked John.

Terra, who was still laughing on the floor, waved her fuzzy socked feet at them. "Slidin'." She stood up and resumed her sliding around.

John laughed, took off his shoes, and joined her.

Sherlock still stood in the doorway, looking confused.

"Well, come on then," John said as he slid past. "Join us!"

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked.

John and Terra both slid over to him (and crashed into each other – Terra almost fell again, but John caught her). "You're kidding," Terra said.

"Didn't you ever slide around the house in your socks as a kid?" John asked.

Sherlock shook his head.

"No way. I've seen pictures of where you grew up. All that marble and hardwood and you never did this once?" responded Terra.

Sherlock shook his head again.

"What did you and Mycroft _do_ when you were growing up?" asked John. "It's no wonder you don't get along, if you never had any fun together as kids! When Harry and I were growing up we only ever got along when we were doing stuff like this!"

Terra nodded. "Same with me and Kaelyn – she's my only mortal sibling. We don't talk nowadays, but we used to have so much fun doing this."

"I just don't see what's so fun about slipping and falling," Sherlock said.

John and Terra exchanged a look, and then grabbed Sherlock's arms and dragged him across the room (he'd taken off his hoes at the door).

They spent the evening like this, sliding around and falling and laughing and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Mrs Hudson watched them from the door. She was glad to see her boys so happy. It had only been a few short years since Sherlock had been all alone (and to be honest, rather unpleasant to be around). And the few months since John had been alone after the Fall had been even shorter. But now here they were, laughing and happy and _together_. Mrs Hudson hadn't known Terra very long, but she knew that Terra was too young to share the dark knows-what-people-are-really-capable-of look that the boys sometimes got.

But none of them had that look now. They were happy, at least for the moment. And that was enough.

_A/N - Here ends Myth and Mortal, on a happy note (which is good). :D_

_You never know, maybe I'll write some shorts or a sequel of some sort. Even **I** don't know._

_I am so glad that you read this story and that you stuck around 'till the end. _

_Less-than-three, loves. :)_


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